The Bitter End
by KeepingFilmAlive
Summary: Due to clever little criminals and unfortunate weather, the duo is stuck waiting out a blizzard in the back seat of a useless car, cuddling in order to share body heat. What seems laughable and entertaining at first quickly bares its nasty teeth and they are left exchanging what might be their last words to each other.


Title: Till the Bitter End

Pairing: John and Sherlock

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Rating: T

Notes: Enjoy the angst, my lovelies. Reviews greatly appreciated! Please don't murder me!

:

Sherlock would be sure to appreciate the unexpected (but clever) use of tranquilizer darts if they hadn't been left out in the cold for so long. John would be sure to never appreciate it ever, in fact, he'd like to return the favor to the bastard that had left them like this. Usually, following leads and chasing down bad guys in the cold was unpleasant enough, but to be put to sleep by darts and then carefully placed in a worthless piece of junk car in the middle of nowhere after light snow had turned into a full on blizzard-

"Amateur. He knew we were on to him, but his crime wasn't anything worth killing for in his eyes, so he puts us out, drags us out here, and leaves us in a car that can't go anywhere or even turn on so we're at least out of the way. He doesn't want to kill us or anyone else; he thinks that if he can stall us long enough he can escape. Little does he know Lestrade has all the information by now and is on his way at this moment to catch him." Sherlock smiles and rubs at his neck where the dart had penetrated him previously. "I do love the idea of tranquilizer darts, in all these years, this is the first time I've had to deal with them. Movies do love to exaggerate, don't they? At least the ones that you watch."

"Oh, shut it. Just be thankful they weren't bullets." John motions for Sherlock to scoot over so he can pull down the back seat to dig around in the boot. Sherlock can't see a damn thing out the windows aside from two things.

"The snow is too high; we won't be able to open the doors. Even if we managed to get out of the car, I can't tell where we are. We might be miles from the nearest building. We wouldn't last." John makes a triumphant sound and pulls out a blanket folded neatly from the boot. He folds the seat back up and opens the blanket, gesturing for Sherlock to lay down. Luckily the car was just barely big enough for them to lay down on their sides if they press close enough together. John being John, he makes sure Sherlock is the one against the back cushion, having his front warm by John's body heat and his side and back warm from the cushions of the seat. They snuggle up close and aren't awkward at all in this situation because honestly, it's just basic survival skills. John tucks Sherlock's head under his and pulls the blanket mostly over them, leaving it open just enough to get some proper oxygen.

"The media's going to have a field day with this if they find out, though." John's warm breath flows over Sherlock's ear, he honestly had no plans at laughing at the joke, but John followed with a little snort and the plans were automatically squashed. Sherlock lets out a chuckle and John smiles against his cheek. "Laughter would really benefit us right now, though. It opens up your-"

"Yes, I know, it would keep us warm, but it would also cause us to waste energy. We don't know how long we'll be here, John." John falls silent and Sherlock closes his eyes. Moments pass in silence when Sherlock can feel John trying very ridiculously hard to hold back a smile. Sherlock sighs. "Fine, get it out."

"I could really go for a desert right now." He wasn't sure why John found that so funny, but he loved the way he was laughing at that moment. John has many different laughs, but the ones where he can make a joke in the most sticky situations were his favorite.

"You are absurd."

"Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other 'Does this taste funny to you?'" And then there's moments like this when they're in a sticky situation that lasts for a really long time and all John can do to cope is recite a never ending list of awful jokes which he thinks are the funniest damned things on the planet.

"Oh, please, John, not again." Sherlock retorts knowing he'll be laughing anyway.

"Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love, and got married. The ceremony wasn't much, but the reception was excellent."

"John, please." His voice cracked when a bubble of laughter tried to escape his throat.

"So this dyslexic man walks into a bra…"

"Three out of ten."

"Why wasn't the pirate allowed into the movie? Because it was rated Arrrrrr."

"Must you bring up pirates?"

"Why don't fish play basketball? They're afraid of the net."

"It's so cold, I wish there was a corner to stand in right now." John stopped shaking with quiet laughter; Sherlock could feel his brow scrunch up in confusion. "It's ninety degrees."

"Pfff- A pirate walks into a bar with a paper towel on his head. The bartender says 'Hey, what's with the paper towel?' and the pirate says 'Arrr, someone put a bounty on me'."

"Is Silicon the same in Spanish? Si."

"I can't think of any chemistry jokes, all of the good ones argon."

"When is a door not a door? When it's ajar."

"Have you heard of the new restaurant on the moon? I hear the food is amazing, but it's got no atmosphere."

:

Thirty minutes have dragged on for what seem like hours. The laughing had stopped ages ago. The cold had completely taken over their bodies. The two occasionally pull away to warm each other's nose, ears, and fingers with their breath. It works, but not much. The blizzard hasn't died down at all. John can no longer feel his toes. Neither can Sherlock.

:

An hour has passed.

:

Two hours have passed.

:

"After everything we've been though, I have never considered that freezing to death would be the way either of us goes." John had been uncomfortably quiet until just now. Sherlock concludes that the past two hours have been spent coming to terms with the possibility of death in this car for John. He supposes he can't blame him for that, though.

"It's only been just over two hours, John, we still have time."

"Not much, and you know that."

"I'm sure Mycroft has the entire British army coming for us as we speak."

"If your phone weren't dead, maybe. Look, I'm not saying I mind, though. I'm with you, we had fun, you know?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, but internally he really hated how shaky and weak John's voice was. John is smaller and isn't wearing as many layers of clothing as he usually wears, the trip out here wasn't supposed to be this long, obviously. "Just… Just to take precaution, though, if we don't end up making it through this, there is something I'd like to say. And before you go on about me being typical and predictable, last minute confessions and what not, just hear me out. I'd really like to say it…" Sherlock remained quiet, John's fingers worked into his hair and rubbed at his scalp. He'd been waiting for this. "But… You probably know what it is that I want to say, don't you?"

"Say it anyway." Sherlock tilted his head just so, his eyes locked with John's. How many times have they locked eyes like this since they've met, Sherlock wonders. "I want to hear you say it." John tries to swallow, Sherlock tries to ignore how badly he's trembling.

"Right. Well." Sherlock tightened his hold around the shorter man's waist. "Sherlock, I… Well, I love you. I'm in love with you. I am. And… I know this is incredibly corny and dull, we've been in life or death situations countless times before and I never confessed this, but I've waited… Far too long, and I'm not exactly sure why."

"Because you're an idiot." With a mumble under his breath, he leans forward, luckily not having to go far, and hesitantly presses his lips against John's. John wants to be surprised, but deep down he's had an inkling that the sod felt something for him in return. So he smiles and closes his eyes and pretends he can feel those plump lips on his own and pretends that it's the most magical thing he's ever felt in his miserable life.

And they are both so happy in this moment.

:

Four hours in total.

There is pounding on the window.

Names are being shouted.

The door at their heads opens and Mycroft watches them in cold anticipation.

John's eyes are open and still, his lips and skin tinted blue.

Sherlock is curled into the frozen body with its arms still wrapped tight around him.

Raven curls twist and a pale wet face slides into view.

"I don't want to go, Mycroft. Please don't make me go. Please."


End file.
